A Man's Choice
by goldstaarr
Summary: "Every man has a choice. His life and his character are determined by the choices he makes"


**This story is set in Yemen 2001 directly after Percy came to Michael's hospital bed. But what would happen if Michael hadn't agreed to work for Percy straight away – this is my idea of what could have happened and how Michael was recruited into Division. **

**Title:** A Man's Choice  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Nikita.  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Michael, Percy  
><strong>Rating: <strong>PG-13  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Everything belongs to the respectful owners – I'm just playing with the characters.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> _Every man has a choice. His life and his character are determined by the choices he makes._  
><strong>Notes:<strong> written for 50scenes on livejournal – the prompt was _overdose_.

* * *

><p>"<em>Every man has a choice. His life and his character are determined by the choices he makes. You have options"<em>

The words echoed in his head as he lay in the hospital bed in the military wing, his head spinning. He had lost his wife and his child. His best friend, the man who he had trusted, had betrayed him and now this mysterious man had walked in claiming that he could help him avenge their deaths, that he could help him find Kasim without any of the restrictions of agencies like the CIA or the FBI.

So who did he work for?

Michael didn't even care, he had told him he wasn't interested in his offer, turned his head away and waited for him to leave. The doctor had come back as soon as the sound of retreating footsteps could no longer be heard, Michael pushing the needle and bottle of morphine under his leg to block it from view.

He had hid it until the doctor had left after a few brief questions with even briefer answers. Michael wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone – he just wanted out of this place, away from it all. Once the doctor had left his side, Michael had made sure no one was looking before slipping the vial and needle back onto the tray.

For the next five days he lay there, hurting both physically and mentally, practically a zombie as people came in and out to see him, question how he was holding up. He wasn't even strong enough to plaster on a small smile, tell them he was working through it. How could he – he was twenty one years old and a widower. He had lost his wife and his baby girl – both of them tore away from him in an instant.

_It should have been me_

That was the mantra that played inside his head all day long. He kept wondering if he had just done something different – taken the briefcase; ran faster to get to the car – _anything_, then they would still be here.

xxxxxxxxxx

A week had passed and Michael was being released and returning home to recover. His superiors had agreed that it would be best for him – a two month leave from the Navy to recover and then he would be back. So he was sitting on a plane flying back to New York – back to their home. The thought of walking back through the doors of that house without them; he didn't want to think about it as tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

"Would you like a drink sir?" the flight attendant asked him with a bright smile, unaware of the inner turmoil that was going on inside his head. He was about to decline and plaster on whatever smile he could muster up for appearances, knowing that he shouldn't be drinking alcohol with the medication that he was on. But he wanted something to numb the pain – to make it go away for at least a little while before he had to face it again.

"Whiskey, please", he said with a small nod and a brief smile when she handed it to him before making her way to the next passenger on the almost vacant plane. He held the glass up slightly, watching the droplet of water slide down the side of the glass as if he was mesmerized by it. _Elizabeth hated when he drank whiskey because she could taste it on his lips when they kissed. _Shaking his head slightly, Michael knocked the whole thing back, setting the glass down on the arm of the seat and leaned his head back, his eyes squeezing shut as he pictured the image of his wife and daughter looking at him just before the car had exploded.

Looking at his watch he sighed as he thought – _Only ten more hours._

xxxxxxxxxx

As the taxi pulled up in front of the house – a four bedroom with a huge garden they had picked out especially for Haylie and the family they had planned on expanding – Michael felt a light sweat break out across his back and forehead, his chest rising and falling faster. He felt like he was under water, his hearing muffled as he could barely make out what words were being said as he stared at the house

"Buddy – that'll be twenty two dollars", the cab driver said as he looked at Michael like he had three heads, having no idea why the young man was acting the way he was.

"Oh – yeah, here", Michael said as he pushed his hand into his pocket and handed the driver the money before stepping out of the cab. He had stood outside for what felt like an eternity before finally putting one foot in front of the other and began to walk towards the front door of his house. Reaching into his pocket, his hand shaking, he pulled out his keys and pushed them into the lock, holding his breath without even realizing it as he pushed the handle down and walked in.

The bag in his hand fell to the floor with a resounding thump as his hand went lax, his eyes canning over the family photos that lined the walls. Closing his eyes, a lump in his throat, Michael leaned back against the door and felt his legs buckle beneath him and slid down, his arms wrapped around his shins and for the first time in over a week he cried over the loss of his family.

xxxxxxxxxx

Leaning back on the sofa, Michael ran his fingers over the picture of Elizabeth and he on their wedding day, his hand on the small bump that had just began to show. They had just got engaged after Michael found out that he was to be deployed to Uzbekistan – and had moved their wedding forward when they had discovered she was expecting. They hadn't planned on starting a family so soon, especially with Michael's job – but when they had seen the first scan, Michael couldn't have been happier.

Taking a long drink of the bottle in his hand, finishing it, Michael dropped it onto the table which already held four more discarded bottles. After sitting in the hall for over an hour, Michael had finally pushed himself off the floor and grabbed the case of beer from the fridge – practically the only thing in it – and had went into the living room and had been sitting there ever since.

He couldn't stomach the thought of going into his and Elizabeth's bedroom or anywhere near Haylie's room. The smell of the burning car and petrol was still as fresh as it was just moments after the car had exploded.

Dropping the frame onto the seat beside him, Michael held his head in his hands and let out a shuddering breath. He couldn't do this. He didn't want to live without them – his family had meant everything to him.

Pushing himself up, Michael walked into the hall and fell to his knees beside the bag he had left discarded when he had come in. He had been giving morphine tablets to help with the pain – Michael having cracked a few ribs when he had been thrown back from the explosion. He hadn't taken any of them yet – the bottle having enough to last him three weeks and three weeks only. Pushing himself up and tripping slightly, more drunk than he had even realized himself, Michael went back to the living room. Sitting down he fumbled with the cap of the bottle before finally opening it, tossing it to the floor as he tipped the bottle over, over a dozen little while capsules falling out into his palm.

Cradling them in his hand, he paused for a moment, his head turning to the side and looking at the picture once more. _I can't live without them _he thought to himself, a tear slipping down his face as he grabbed a bottle of beer from the table and took a swig of it. Tossing the tablets into his mouth he quickly chased them down with beer, swallowing hard to get them down.

This was what he wanted. He needed to be with them again.

As the room began to sway in front of him – Michael felt the bottles slip from his hands as his eyes rolled back and everything went black.

xxxxxxxxxx

The first thing that Michael was aware of was the splitting headache he had. That and the fact that his throat felt like someone had stuck a chainsaw down it. Swallowing, he grimaced and fought to open his eyes, turning his head to the side slightly when he was met by a glaring bright light.

That's when it hit him. If he was in pain – then he was still alive. That meant that Elizabeth and Haylie were still gone.

Forcing his eyes open he realized that he was in a hospital room, a private one unlike when he was in Uzbekistan. He went to sit up, to get out of this place, only to find that he couldn't – restraints locked around his wrists. Dropping back onto the bed, Michael looked up to the ceiling as he ground out,

"Great"

"I'm sure you could get them off if you really wanted to", came the sound of a familiar voice, causing Michael to lift his head, his brow furrowing as he noticed that it was the man from before.

"What are you doing here?" angered by the fact that he couldn't even sit up properly to look this man in the face. He had told him already that he didn't want anything to do with him – so why was he here now.

"I came here because I really do want to help you Michael – I told you, a man's life and character are determined by the choices he makes…and you can choose to get justice for yourself and your family or you can choose to waste your life drinking yourself into an early grave", he glanced down at the restraints that bound Michael to the bed before letting his eyes meet Michael's once more as he finished, "or you can swallow bottle after bottle of pills and keep repeating this cycle"

Barking out a humourless laugh, Michael turned his head away from Percy as he spat out, "Like you care", wondering why someone like this guy would give a rats ass if he killed himself or not. Sure he had been highly respected in the Navy, the job that he had to do for his age was something rare and so he was seen as a prize soldier, but that didn't matter now. After what he had done he would probably be dismissed anyway.

"I do Michael – you see, you're _exactly _the man that I recruit to work for me"

Turning his head to face the man, Michael locked eyes with him as he said,

"What, suicidal?"

"No – driven. You want to get justice for your family and I want to help you. You can't do that by yourself." He paused for a moment before adding, "I told you before; I don't have to deal with the red tape that other agencies do"

Considering it, Michael was about to respond when a doctor walked into the room and without saying a word glanced at Michael's chart before injecting something into the drip that was connected to him. As a strange sensation passed over him he assumed that it was probably just pain medication – the pounding in his head lessening.

When the doctor left the room, Michael looked up at the man and said,

"Even if I said yes; I'm stuck here. And I have to deal with my own job – I can't just leave the Navy and-and go and…", Michael trailed off, his eyelids growing heavy and his vision beginning to blur.

A smile crossed the older man's face as he looked at Michael and said,

"I'll deal with that"

xxxxxxxxxx

When he woke again the pain was gone and Michael tried opening his eyes once more, once again being met by the onslaught of white light. Of course this time when he went to lift his hand to shield his eyes on reflect, he discovered that he could.

_Maybe they took the restraints off, _Michael thought to himself as he pushed himself up in the bed, quickly discovering that he was no longer in the hospital anymore. He had no idea where he was. He was no longer in the hospital gown he had been wearing, but instead a pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt. There were faint red marks from where the restraints on his wrists had been too tight and his lips and mouth where dry.

"My name's Percy" – came the all too familiar voice once more, Michael spinning his head around to look at his, his eyes darting around the room for a moment before settling on Percy as he asked,

"Where am I?"

Pushing himself away from the wall that he had been leaning against, Percy held his hands out by his side as he stated, "The place you're going to find Justice Michael". Sitting down on the metal chair at the end of the bed, he crossed one leg over the other, leaning back into the chair as if the situation was normal, a smile painted across his face as he looked at the man in front of him.

"You – how –"he faltered, unable to speak. Always the good soldier, he wasn't used to questioning his superiors, and this is how it felt. Percy had promised him justice for his family, a way to avenge their deaths. Swallowing – he locked eyes with Percy and asked,

"What do I have to do?"

**I hope that you liked it and please let me know what you think. I won't be adding more chapters to this one as I want to leave it as a one-shot but I may write more stories that deal with this storyline as I see it. **


End file.
